


Luck of the Draw

by Kit_SummerIsle



Series: Luck of the Draw [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual, Lottery, M/M, Seal-Breaking, ideal society AU, luck of the draw AU, mismatch of continuities and mechs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-19 14:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10641603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: Once every vorn the names of the young mechs who mature sexually during that vorn are entered into the matching computers and a suitable mentor is chosen (drawn more or less randomly) for each. That mentor teaches them all about interfacing and breaks their seals. Orion and his friends are excited to learn who are going to be their mentors...





	1. lottery

**Author's Note:**

> I called it in my head an ' **ideal society AU** ', because this practice really only works if the society works optimally, since it is very easy to abuse. But it doesn't happen in the fic, so there won't be any real complications, drama, or angst. It's a nice, warm, fluffy fic where everyone gets happy and stays that way. Well, mostly.
> 
> I intentionally left out a few characters and made others ambiguous or alluded, using OCs for side-roles, because if readers like it, it might become a series of fics centered around the lottery idea.

In the subdued, quiet atmosphere of the Iacon Archives two young mechs leaned over their prospective screens under the timeless arches of the high ceiling. Their digits flew over the keyboards and the screens scrolled dutifully with the billions of data they were processing. Every now and then one of them would pause for a few kliks, stood and straightened kinked cables and rotated stiff joints. At such occasions, they would whisper to each other for a few kliks before going back to work. The blue and yellow mech now stood behind his friend, who was still industriously typing away, continuing an earlier conversation…

“Ohh, come on, Orion, don’t tell me you never wondered!”

“No, Prion, I have not. I trust the system.”

“Well, of course. But still… whom would you want?”

Orion looked up from the file he was perusing and frowned. Prion was most insitent and quite annoying and he had hoped that his friend would forget this line of conversation… obviously, no such luck.

“It is not whom we want, Prion. The Lottery is designed to match compatible mechs and I have yet to hear an instance it had failed in any way. Also, I have work to do still, and you as well, before Alpha Trion checks on you.”

The other young archivist scowled back at him and stepped back, about to leave him alone. Maybe now he would now let it go, Orion thought, turning back to his work with a sigh.

“You are boring, Orion. I guess you won’t come to the local Coming of Age party either?”

Orion sighed again. He had been thinking of that to be honest. He was not a partying mech, though his fellow archivists and friends sometimes managed to convince him to an evening out in a solid, nice place. But the Coming of Age was definitely a cause for celebrations and happiness, and it would not be proper to get the notification alone. And maybe… maybe Prion was right, he should be a bit more excited about the prospect of who was going to break his seals. The matching computers did have certain ways and protocols that were, naturally a secret, but still, somewhat guessable. Especially by archivists, used to crunch data and make intuitive leaps of linking unlikely things.

Though it still felt… wrong somehow to guess. Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise… yes, that was certainly one of his reasons. The other being… a little fear, or rather anxiousness of the unknown, of what the act itself entailed. Cybertronians grew up fast in frames and processors, but interfacing came much later than legal maturity. Orion, along with all his age-mates and friends, were full adults and working in the Iacon Archives for vorns before they got informed by their medics that their designations have been submitted to the Matching Committee for a suitable mech to break their seals and teach them the ways of interface. It meant no more than that, though the mechs so matched usually stayed friends, but in no way they were obligated to become bonded or partners. To break the seals of a young mech was a great honor and responsibility and most complied gladly when chosen. But knowing the hows and whys did little to alleviate Orion’s anxiousness.

“Of course I am going there, Prion. I just don’t see the point of guessing.” Orion paused for a klik. Perhaps he was unreasonably serious about it and maybe Prion would be happy with something to chew on. “Though I had wondered… that I wouldn’t mind a larger mech than me. You know, for a change.”

Prion whirled back and stared at him incredulously. Orion allowed a tiny smirk to curve his mouthparts upwards. Though it never fazed him to be taller and bigger than his fellow archivists, he could never imagine himself with a smaller mech like them. Because, of course he had dreams, ever since his interfacing components matured and certain chemicals got produced in his frame. Everyone had such dreams, it was natural. He looked it up after the first one. And he really hoped he would be matched somemech more like his frame-type than the other archivists.

Prion lifted a brow plate and a slow smile drew his own lips.

“So you do… you really did… wow, Orion, I never thought…”

“That I can dream? Of course I can. I just don’t do it during my work shift.” He pointedly glanced at the screen, where the document flashed and continued. “But maybe we should talk about it after our shifts.” If he spent any more time on one document, Alpha Trion would certainly come around to check on them. Their allotted breaks were on a condition of a certain data-set being finished in time.

“You’re on, Orion! See ya later!”

Of course Prion called a few of their friends as well and Orion was at first grilled mercilessly, then teased ceaselessly about his dreams and wish… until he felt sorry for ever mentioning it to Prion. To his utter dismay, they started to look up large mecha on the nets and try to match him with one – playfully and good-naturedly of course, but still, after the second joor Orion’s face and audials were downright burning from it – and also from the high grade they kept pushing on him. The various pictures of big rigs, lorries, constructicons, even Seekers and shuttles, unnerved him and by the end he was not all that sure of his own earlier wish of a ‘larger mech’ for a mentor, however temporarily. He was glad when the topic turned to someone else’s prospective mentors, though it didn’t interest him. He was also reconsidering about going to the big party three orns from then, which would likely to be much the same, only with far more mechs.

But in the end he went to the local Community Center for the Coming of Age party, reasoning that it was easier to get lost and get his notification in secret among several hundred mecha than his small circle of friends. He touched the special notepad in his subspace, sighed and went to the bar for a drink. He was nervous, after all, Orion admitted to himself, it was a great occasion and he would get to know a total stranger most intimately. But even with the crowd, Prion and some of his friends have found him and they were now crowding around a small table, holding drinks, everyone looking nervous and trying to hide it with more or less luck… and everyone was unobtrusively checking their own notepads every now and then. The announcements would not start for some time yet, but everyone loathed this last few breems of waiting and apprehension.

“I still don’t get why it can’t be somemech we know.” Treshold complained, waving his drink around.

“There are no rules against it, as far as I know.” Ratchet, a well-known medic and the physician for many of them, answered, well over his third drink that was showing up heavily in his accent. “It is just the matching computers have a strong incentive of mixing mecha and CNA lines all over Cybertron.”

“It promotes good relationships among the cities.” Orion added himself, sipping his own drink. “You all studied about the political mess of that ended the Second Era, right? The discontent among Vos and Iacon? Well, it is harder to spread bad rumours about mechs you know personally.”

“Yeah, it was a brilliant idea from … who it was, Zeta Prime?”

“Primus forbid, not Zeta!”

Three indignant voices answered to Prion, whose specialty was the colonies and therefore a little less well versed in Cybertronian history than the others in the company. 

“No, no, not Zeta! It was Nexus Prime!”

“By the Allspark, Prion, how can you mix up those two?”

“Well, whichever it was, it worked.” Ratchet ended the good-natured jabbing with a toast. “Here is to him, and your future mentors!”

“Hear, hear!”

The toast was repeated several times while they waited, and even Orion started to feel the light buzz of high-grade. Which was, of course the very reason for these Coming of Age parties, to get happy and buzzed with your friends by the time you get to see the mech – or femme, but that was rarer than rare – who would break your seals and teach you the ways of interfacing. 

“So, Orion,” – Prion’s smirk made Orion immediately vary. – “how would you like… a Seeker?”

Orion sighed and lifted a brow plate. Prion was… annoyingly insistent about the whole thing. Besides… a Seeker? It was vanishingly unlikely. There were just a bit more Seekers in existence than femmes and to be matched with either would be a near miracle. Prion held a datapad under his nasal sensor insistently and grinned maniacally.

“Here, I have found one with a paint-job matching yours. He is eligible, too.”

Orion groaned, but glanced at the datapad held out to him and he had to admit, the Seeker… looked nice. Just like Prion said, he had a red-blue paint-job, though his white was more like sparkling silver than Orion’s usual looks and he had a much more beautiful frame than his own blocky one. The wings in particular made him look exotic and his dark face…

“Yeah, because it is so likely, Prion. He looks like somemech high up…?” Pun entirely unintended of course.

“Hehh… that’s the Vosnian Crown Prince.” Ratchet dragged the datapad towards him so he could see it. “He’s coming of age now too?”

Orion wanted to sink under the table, but instead he kicked Prion there. 

“If he is coming to age too, then we can’t be paired with him, Prion. Besides nobles usually get paired with others in their class.”

“Yeah, romance novels and their miraculous pairings across the castes are rarely true.” Ratchet added laughing.

Prion laughed too, the slightly too loud, too forced laugh of someone already quite buzzed by high-grade and the datapad was put away, to Orion’s immense relief. His laugh had ended suddenly with a curious, choked yip and Orion wondered for a klik is he had some probems, perhaps energon going the wrong place… when he saw Prion go wide-opticked and with a trembling servo fished out his notepad from his subspace. It was flashing silently now with a notification.

“Well. Check it now, Prion!” Ratchet nudged the suddenly frozen yellow-blue mech “I thought you said you were eager to do it! And by the way, congrats for being the first!”

Prion lifted his cube and emptied it, still staring at the flashing signal. His audials were canted all the way back, which was strange for the usually happy and cheerful mech. He glanced around and Orion gave him a hopefully encouraging smile. Prion poked the notification and his optics widened as he read the designation silently first then out loud – “Ariel” – and widened even more as he accessed the picture file and the description. Then he whooped and grabbed another cube, throwing back the potent content.

“A FEMME!”

Mixed _ahhhhs_ and _ohhsss_ greeted the announcement, Orion joining in wholesparkedly. Femmes were rare, elusive – and revered greatly. To be matched with one was rare luck and considered highly fortunate. Prion was congratulated by many mechs, some not even their friends, just walking by and hearing his match and bought a lot of cubes for his luck. The only thing tamping their awe and celebration was the tiny sounds of other announcers going off and mechs around pulling out their datapads from pockets or subspaces, reading their matches, mostly happily, with only a few groans or hisses mixed into the growing, happily chaotic noise…

Orion cheered every one of his friends, drank even more high grade that Prion kept pushing at him and tried not to be nervous about his own – still resolutely silent – datapad. More and more mecha now kept their optics on their datapads, reading about the unknown mecha whom they were paired with, some already planning their travel to distant cities, some contacting their intended mentors, and only a few, like Orion stiffly sitting still and waiting, waiting, waiting… usually most announcements came together, straight from the Matching Computers, only the ones requiring a special oversight from the committee making their recipients wait.

“You still didn’t get it?”

Ratchet’s sympathetic voice cut through Orion’s growing nervousness. The medic was smiling from audials to audials as he was congratulating every one of them, but his optics looked at Orion with concern.

“N-no. Not yet.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get somemech soon.”

“But why so slow? I mean, I’m… nothing special. Why is it so hard to match me?”

“Well, you have a special spark, I know that.” Ratchet tried to hold onto his thoughts and drinks, which was not easy in the increasingly festive crowd. “Nothing wrong, just… unusual.”

Orion swallowed and nodded. He remembered it from one of his early checkups, but never thought that it would cause him trouble. He drank his cube and glanced at the others. Prion was dancing with Dion, the latter uncomfortable with it even now and frequently glanced down at his own datapad, memorizing a name. Wedge had his optics riveted on his own datapad where an unknown mech waved at him and smiled. Lucky one, already getting acquainted. Slightly off the side, nearly squashed into the wall, Tracks tried to charm his own silent datapad, so Orion was at least not alone in waiting. He moved there and was just about asking something from the blue mech, when a tiny, yet queerly loud ping sounded from his subspace.

“I told you.” Ratchet nudged him and his smile if possible became even wider. Prion threw himself down on a chair beside them after Dion finally refused to dance any more, now a bit more coherent, though still happy, looking expectantly and grinning enthusiastically at Orion.

“So? Let’s see your Seeker!”

Orion grimaced back at him, but pulled out his own datapad and stared it for a few kliks, venting nervously. Here was the klik he had waited for so long and was anxious of equally long. With an only slightly trembling digit he poked the ON button and the short message bloomed to life on the small screen. Orion read the name and reset his optics. Then read it again.

Time became frozen.

…

“So who’s it? What’s the matter, Orion?”

“Hey, is he all right? He just turned all white and still.”

“Is he… whimpering?” Treshold stopped trying to make his own datapad work and frowned at him.

Orion heard them all, but he felt like he was locked into a bubble, unable to make his frozen vocalizer work, or just lift a digit, or… anything…

“He’s in shock. Frag, what is it? Or rather… who?” Ratchet’s servo was a familiar weight on his arm, the medical scanner’s slight tingle melting the ice in his lines. Orion twitched and croaked.

“Are you all right?”

“Y-yes…” He could move now, though his processor still rang like somemech hit him with a hammer. Repeatedly.

“So who it is, tell, tell! Must be something more interesting than Prion’s femme!”

“It is…” Orion glanced down at the name again to confirm the impossible. Read it three more times to be sure. Absently he noted that the screen was cracked now where his whitened and trembling digits held it. His voice was still barely above a croaked whisper. “It is… Lord High Protector Megatron.”

The dead silence spread fast from their table, as even Prion had his vocalizer stuck, and Orion had a bare klik’s satisfaction of everymech reacting to the designation like him - before the sussuration of whispers started up again, the celebrating happiness all around turning into amazed incredulosity. Mechs all around stared at him with equal amount of envy and fear. Warbuilds were not a familiar sight in or around the Archives Quarter, though this warbuild, well, everymech knew _him_ from the newscasts.

“Did he say… the Lord High Protector?” Prion’s voice was almost as high as a femme’s and barely more than a whisper.

He was the still the only one by their table who could speak up anyhow, the others mutely stared at him amazed, frightened or just plain shocked. Orion nodded slowly, glancing down again for a finaly confirmation. The designation and title didn’t change, much as he wished it. Ice cursed down his lines and his spark spun so fast it might have careened out of its chamber. The shock was wearing away, but very slowly. He still couldn’t move.

“By Primus, he did. Orion… well. Next time be careful for what you wish for. A larger mech, indeed…” If Ratchet meant that lame joke as easing the tension, he utterly failed. Orion whimpered again and new cracks appeared on the datapad. 

“I didn’t… I wouldn’t… I… why?”

“Well, he is in the system, like every other Cybertronian citizens, who are not in prison, so… it was possible.”

“B-but… why me?”

“Well, for that you’d have to ask the matching computers and they don’t answer. Still… it’s not that bad, Orion.”

“Not bad… not bad, hahhaaa!” Prion apparently found his voice “Not bad, he says! He gets to be fragged by the most powerful mech on the planet and our dear doctor says it’s not that bad!”

Orion curled inward. Right now he didn’t want to bear Prion’s crude jokes and overwhelming personality. He wanted to go home to his tiny sleeping cubicle and… he wasn’t sure what he would do, but silence and being alone starred heavily in his wishes. It wasn’t likely to get his wish any time soon tough. As the news spread, their table was fast becoming popular and surrounded by dozens of mecha, all wanting to see the one who had gotten the Lord High Protector on their datapad. 

“Second most powerful.” Ratchet injected acidly “The Prime outranks Lord Megatron, last I heard.” And I think it is best if Orion goes home now. You’d all be shocked at such news, aren’t you!?!” The question was asked loud, aimed at the mechs crowding them. Orion nodded, somewhat desperately. 

“Yes, you heard it right, and yes, we are going now.” – Ratchet scowled around and his scowls were… _famous_. The crowd started to thin around them. - “especially before a news crew hears about it since Orion is in no condition to give a coherent interview.”

Orion let himself pulled up from the chair, at the medic’s insistence - _maybe it’s best if you get drunk now_ \- chugged down the last cube pushed into his servo, welcomed the strong kick in it, and was immensely glad for his friends, who surrounded him and protected from the curious crowd. They got him home, tucked him in and Ratchet put him to recharge with a small cube that tasted and probably was a mild soporific and the promise of talking more the next orn.


	2. dinner

The next orn started way too early for Orion, by an insistent and rude beeping from his home console, signalling incoming request for conversation from an unknown source. Orion groaned as he shifted on his berth. His processor ached from too much high grade and his frame from the uncomfortable posture he woke up in. The caller was nomech he knew and for a blessed few innocent kliks Orion wondered idly about who it could be this early and why. Then the reality, the fact that he had learned last night slammed into him like a freight train and sobered up his processor in no time. He stared at the console, tried to controll his hyperventilating and gather together what he had remembered from protocol, about addressing a noble or something… as a simple, junior archivist, he had absolutely no need for such formalities.

Finally, he couldn’t put it off any longer. With an only slightly trembling digit, he touched the accept button – only realizing a klik later that he should have at least washed first or put his tiny sleeping cubicle to rights… But it was too late for that as on the screen the Primal Palace logo bloomed and Orion’s fluttering nervousness grew to flat out panic. He started to babble a ceremonial greeting, mixed up the words, started again… but stopped when the mech on the screen cocked a brow plate looking quite obviously not Lord Megatron. Orion reined in his vocalizer with a hitch and fell silent, completely embarrassed. The mech khm-ed and spoke up.

“Greetings, Orion Pax. I am calling on behalf of Lord High Protector Megatron, about certain… arrangements on his behalf.”

Orion hesitantly looked around in his tiny cubicle, trying – and failing completely – to envision the huge warbuild in here. Even if he would fit, it would be like… sardines? The same look appeared in the official’s faceplates.

“Lord High Protector Megatron would prefer the… _encounter_ to be in the Palace. I am sure you understand the… _khmmm_ , the appropriate space considerations.”

“Yes, yes, of course!” Great, he was going to the PALACE! Prion was going to be so-so envious!

“We understand that you are an archivist.” It wasn’t really a question, but Orion nodded anyway. They probably knew more about him by this time than himself. “Though I am relieved that you appear to be… appropriately sized. I must admit, we wondered at the matching.”

Orion blushed. He had wondered about it as well. Though wonder was probably too simple a word for his nervous fretting.

“Well, yeah, me too. Ummm. I’m… I mean I’m big for an archivist, I know. I’m… a transport class frame. But I’m fully qualified to work in the Archives!” He was questioned about it a few times when they all started, and before people got to know him.

“We do not question that. I’m sure you are… a bit nervous, but Lord Megatron has instructed me to assure you that everything will be fine.”

Orion stared and dithered. If the mech was trying to be reassuring… then he utterly failed in it. In a strangely queer way, it was normal to the young archivist, who was becoming sober and somewhat calm-ish as the conversation developed. Talking to an official was much less fear-inducing than… the other alternative.

“Lord Megatron also instructed me to tell you that he has scheduled a dinner for the two of you this evening. I am transmitting the details to you.”

Orion nodded and pinged back an affirmation. He wasn’t asked about being free to attend, but since he was, he made no issue about it. His voice trembled just a little at his next question.

“And when the… umm… event is going to take place? Afterwards, or…?”

“I am certain that Lord Megatron will talk to you about it at your meeting. There is no requirement to hurry it.”

The mech stopped for a klik and his – disapproving – optics rowed over Orion’s dishevelled frame.

“I suggest you to make sure to appear appropriately clean and polished. Though we do try to keep the media away, it is inevitable to have pictures taken from afar.”

Orion blushed and his dislike for the mech grew another notch. Even though he was right with his suggestion. Orion knew that he rarely put a lot of effort into his appearance.

“Yes, yes, of course! I’ll do my best!”

“See that you do. Palace out.”

…

“No it won’t be _your_ best, Orion.” – Prion and Ratchet together were a formidable force, against which Orion had no effective arguments – “You will go to a real detailing shop and get the full treatment! No arguing! Orion, you are not familiar with the standards of the nobility, right? Then listen to me and do as I say!”

“But it’s too much…”

“We’ve already pooled our resources to pay for it.” Prion smirked and this time it was a hones, friendly expression. Despite of occasionally being annoying, he truly was Orion’s best friend. “Every mech in the Archives contributed even Alpha Trion. It is a great honour!”

“And there was already a news crew in there, asking for you.” Dion added, somewhat disapprovingly. “They ended up doing a piece on the Archives, which I suppose is good for prosperity and grants.”

The orn went by in a blurr. After getting out of the detailing shop, Orion could hardly recognize himself in the mirror. Not only he had never been this clean, waxed and polished with such expensive items and so expert servos – but Prion talked him into getting a little etching too, because he said, warbuilds liked that. Where on Cybertron he got that info from, he wouldn’t tell, but Orion knew that he had a lot of friends in strange places. The etchings were subdued fortunately, the frame artist declaring that anything more would be too much for his serious complexion, but they did show nicely on his white, a few, tiny and delicate, silvery filigree here and there… 

All too soon Ratchet was escorting him to the transport – _what do you mean I can’t just drive there myself?_ – and Orion felt the nervousness that abated somewhat through the busy orn returning in full force. Soon he would be meeting with… Lord High Protector Megatron himself!

The nervousness peaked when he saw the restaurant at the given address. It was… very simply put, far more elegant than Orion expected or have ever been in. Way more over his helm than he had hoped. The guard at the entrance obviously stopped him. Even with the meticulous polish and the etchings, he simply didn’t look like one used to visiting such a place. Fortunately, the mech was at least polite about it.

“Good evening, Sir. Do you have a reservation?” 

“I… yes, of course… I mean, not me, but… I’m… _lordhighprotectormegatrons_ guest.”

The guard lifted a disbelieving brow, but before he could challenge Orion, another mech stepped out. As Orion later learned, he was the owner of the restaurant, a wealthy mech, though no noble. 

“It is all right, Tankor. Orion Pax, I presume?” At Orion’s silent nod, he bowed – actually bowed for him! – and gestured Orion before him inside. “I was notified about your arrival. Lord Megatron has already arrived and is at the room he reserved. Please, this way.”

Orion panicked slightly. Was he late? But no, he had actually came early. The evening was well before to hit the eight joor at what time the dinner was arranged. With trembling insides he followed the elegant mech inside, passing several tables that boggled his processor, crystal arrangements, metallic sculptures, some mechs obviously nobles by their looks… it was almost like a high end museum if not for the tables, and servers gliding about soundlessly. A soft music suffused the air, dimming conversations and doing a good job to calm him a bit. It was of a similar kind he sometimes listened to while working and it really helped.

“Lord Megatron is… not that frightening mech in private as the newscasts show him.”

He still twitched when the restaurant owner spoke up quietly.

“He’s a warbuild, true, but he is a simpler mech than most nobles you see here. He had come from lower class, you know?”

Orion nodded. He had read all that was available publicily about Lord Megatron, the low caste origin, the toils in a mine, the gladiatorial arena that gave him the means to rise to the highest position a warbuild could hope to attain… but it didn’t feel real. It sounded like a fairytale, insofar as fairytales were drenched in spilled energon, which were usually not... but anyhow, it sounded like too good to be true. It sounded actually like a PR piece, rather than a true story. But he nodded anyway and tried to produce a smile.

“Here. And… good luck.” He was smiling slightly while gesturing towards the door and Orion smiled nervously, glad for this little kindness that he didn’t expect in such a high-end place. He took another deep invent, entirely unsurprised that it didn’t help at all to calm his frayed nerves - and stepped into the room.

The Lord High Protector was unmistakable at once, dominating the room with his large and intimidating presence – actually, his military simplicity was starkly standing out from the opulence of the chamber and the richly decorated table set for two. Orion stared wide-opticked for an eternally long klik at the hulking, silvery grey frame, unconsciously swallowing once. Lord Megatron was… everything that didn’t quite come across the pictures and even the videos. He was exuding danger even by sitting calmly, he was visibly controlled energy just waiting to spring to action, he was intimidating and frightening. He was… a warbuild, a quintessential one, a primal, brute force that was way beyond a simple archivist’s helm. How could they have been matched? The closer he saw the mech from, the less he understood it. Perplexed and not a little afraid, Orion stepped inside and hoped not to stumble as he bowed deeply. Inside he wanted nothing more than just back off and run away. However that would make him look. But it was too late. The smoldering, red pinpoints focused on him and Orion froze like a mechadeer in a car’s headlights. 

“None of that, please.” A deep, gruff voice said and Orion straightened numbly. “Protocol is not required. I am not here as Lord Protector and our interaction should be kept… informal.”

“Yes, My Lord, umm…” He could actually speak, answer! Orion was quite impressed by himself.

“Megatron will do.” There was a slight mirth in the deep tone. “And you are… may I call you Orion?”

“O-of course…”

Orion warily approached the table. Lord Megatron stood and gestured at the chair opposite to him and the young mech quickly took it. Standing, Megatron was even more… MORE. Orion sat quickly, hoping he would do the same. The table was a fix point between them, separating and connecting at the same time, giving a little distance to all that… hugeness. His nervousness ebbed and grew alternately as his shocked processor fought a silent battle with his interestingly eager spark. The deep voice shook him again to the core.

“You must have been as surprised as I was, I guess.”

“Yes, My L… Lord Megatron.”

“I must admit some shock on my part as well. I’ve been called for this duty a few times only and only with other warbuilds like myself. I’m sure you’re nervous and perhaps even afraid… but I can assure you I’ve never eaten any mechs and always left my partners… satisfied.”

Orion glanced up with optics wide and staring. Lord Megatron was smiling, albeit showing a lot of scary-looking fangs, but still friendlier than he expected… friendly in his own, dangerous way and Orion decided that the dictohomy of that was exactly fitting for him. He couldn’t fully process what he said, it was still a far thing to imagine them… interfacing. He decided to take his hurdles one by one.

“I… didn’t know what to expect, but…”

“But not me, I would guess.”

“Umm… no.”

“But you don’t… mind it? I want you to be comfortable and if me being who and what I am is too much, you can certainly ask for a new match.”

Orion took a breem to consider this. He knew that he could ask for a new draw, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Nervousness and surprise was, after all, to be expected… and he discovered suddenly that he didn’t outright fear the larger, heavier and certainly more dangerous-looking mech any more. He glanced up again and took in the heavy frame, the barely concealed weapons, the vicious looking shoulder spurs… and he started to perceive them not just as dangerous, but in a way functional and aesthetic. Awe-insipiring, sure, but not fear. No, instead, he felt something inside him, in his spark… clicking right, affirming wordlessly what the matching computers spat out for him. He looked up again, this time shedding a great part of his apprehension, glancing into those smoldering red orbs… and shook his helm.

“No, actually… I’m fine with you… I mean I am deeply honored by My L… Megatron… I mean… no, I don’t want a new match.”

Well, he did certainly manage to look and sound like an idiot. Orion blushed and frantically looked down, searching for anything to cover up his blunder, praying that somemech would come in and rescue him from…

…but noone came and he was once again surprised to hear that deep laugh that resonated so strangely with his insides and made his lips draw an involuntary, slight answering smile too.

“Just stick with normal speech, like you’re talking with one of your friends! It’s refreshing after the way nobles speak in the court, and I actually prefer it. And it makes our meeting friendlier too.”

“I will… try.” Orion realized suddenly that Megatron honestly wanted to make him at ease and forget the differences between their stations. Suddenly what he had read about this thing coalesced into his processor, the duties and responsibilities of the mentor and that whoever he was in the world, right now, in this matter Lord Megatron had to act in his, Orion’s behalf. That theoretically and ideally it was he, not Lord Megatron, the focal point of this… encounter. That it wasn’t he who had to conform, but Lord Megatron and that he was more than aware of that too. 

And it changed his whole view of the situation. Orion took a large invent and looked up again, this time staring right back into those red orbs. There was still a tiny quake deep inside him, but his smile was more real than any he so far tried.

“I must admit though, that I have never seen a warbuild in my whole function. It makes me… a bit intimidated. I mean more so than normal… umm.”

“That’s okay, we are meant to be intimidating.” Lord Megatron was showing those fangs again in a smile and Orion, for a fleeting klik did wonder how would those feel if… then he chased away that thought. For now. “I’d be insulted if you admitted no such thing.”

Orion laughed a little and nodded gracefully.

“Ohh, I don’t think there is any mech not intimidated by My Lord. Considering your rank and stature, ummm… it’s, well, inevitable.”

Megatron waved away the compliment easily, lounging comfortably on his seat. Orion, too loosened his stiff stance after a few breems had gone.

“It is meant for others like me. In the Arena, looks were almost as important than force and abilities. But enough of me. What exactly is an archivist doing? The same way you never saw a warbuild, I’ve never met an archivist before.”

Orion thought that he actually looked… and was interested, so he decided on the longer answer.

“We deal with all the data that’s collected in the Empire. There are trillions of reports, essays, treatises and various other written pieces generated every orn throughout our society and they all come across the Archives on their way to the intended parties. We categorize them by nature, subject and importance and send them on to those actually analyzing the topics contained within and even higher levels for decision making. We also file them so anything and everything can be found later even if the officials waylay a report or there is deliberate tampering further down the line of usage.”

Megatron listened to him with an air of real interest, but Orion didn’t want to bore him with too long explanations.

“In a way we see everything that goes on the Empire. Of course we all specialize in certain fields, but mostly, everything goes through the Archives’ computer systems and is available for any of us.”

“Is it… interesting?” Orion was sure that he was almost asking ‘boring’ but changed the wording at the last nanoklik to a less offending word.

“I guess, somemech with a more energetic nature would find it boring. But for us, it is enticing, interesting and educational. Many archivists go on if a particular topic starts to interest them and acquired further skills and education. Many end up in government, since we have such a deep insight in the workings of society.”

“Do you have such an ambition? What is your field, your specialty?”

Orion smiled and shook his helm. He was starting to feel at ease now, talking about what he loved to do.

“I’m young still and everything interests me so far. Maybe later I will, but for now, I am happy in the archives. As for a special field… I started to study the second Golden Age and its decline, the reforms that led Cybertron to what we are now.”

There was a discreet sound, a signal from the door, breaking into the conversation and Megatron looked up, and turned to Orion again.

“I have forgotten to mention that I’ve ordered a sampler platter for us. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Ohh, no, not at all. I probably wouldn’t know what to order anyway. This restaurant is way above my pay grade.”

“Of course you are my guest here.” Megatron hastily added “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The door opened and a server stepped in, bowed deeply and silently settled the platter between them in the middle of the table. Orion stared some more, he just couldn’t help it. Calling it a platter was a severe understatement and a really poor way of describing the graceful, three-tiered serving platform that looked almost an art piece in itself. And it was literally heaped with treats of every form, colour and size; small, graceful crystal cubes by the hundreds containing a tiny mouthful of different energon kinds and accompanied by bowls of every additives Orion knew of – and then some. It was a sampler all right – a sampler of wealth, refinery and the finest dining Cybertron had to offer. Also a real feast even if they only consumed a tiny portion of it. 

“Please, help yourself. Don’t be embarrassed if you don’t recognize something – I know less than half of what’s here either, as I’m not one to indulge often. In the military we keep refuelling simpler than this indulgence. We both shall have a grand adventure discovering what these things taste like.”

Orion laughed. He could tell that Megatron was honest and it suddenly made him feel closer, the stories of his low-born origins confirmed in this tiny way. 

“I shall endeavour to do so. Though I hope that the high grade is not too strong, as I rarely indulge in that.” Though secretly he intended to acquire a light buzz at least. Orion discovered long ago that doing so often helped with his awkward socializing skills. 

“They are the ones here I’d guess,” – Megatron pointed out a section, subtly marked with the glyps for high grade. – “they really think of everything here. And I do think we should drink one for the occasion. These cubes are tiny, even for someone not used to strong energon.”

Orion agreed with a nod and they both picked up a cube, their digits touching as they did so. The contact was only for a nanoklik, but Orion felt something zapping through it, something lasting so short, it was barely felt… but it was there and their optics, red and blue met again and connected. Orion’s widened while Megatron’s brow rose subtly, the red suddenly smoldering just a little bit more. There was a definite pause while they did nothing, just let the moment connect them. In the end, it was yet again Megatron’s brow that cocked up a little surprised, while Orion glanced down. He withdrew his servo with the cube and wasn’t sure what had just happened. 

“Well. Let’s drink to our meeting and my delightful companion.”

Orion blushed.

“To our meeting!” He echoed Lord Megatron, suddenly self-conscious.

They raised the cubes and Orion cautiously sipped the bright pink liquid in his cube. The taste overwhelmed the sensors in his intake, not as strong as he feared, but a rich, creamy sweetness was as far from his usual drink as Lord Megatron was from him. He automatically sipped more, wanting more of the the amazing fragrance that even his embarrassment had to take a backseat to.

“Don’t be embarrassed by a simple praise. You are a beautiful mech and I really enjoy our meeting.”

“Umm… thanks… I… I never quite thought of myself, umm, that way.” Orion felt that if his faceplates were blushing any more, he would spontaneously combust. 

“I’m sure you heard it before? If not, that must be short-sightedness on the part of your colleagues.”

“It’s… ummm… it might have been… mentioned once. Or twice.” It was usually Prion and Orion has always suspected it to be just ribbing.

“You really never thought of it?” Megatron drank in a very different way than Orion’s cautious, savoring sips. He threw back the cube without hesitation and appeared to taste it very little on the way down. Though… he his thin, scarred lips smacked when it went down, so he must have liked it. 

“I’m… no, never. I am… kinda big and boxy compared to my usual circle of friends. Clumsy even. I never though they would see me as… well, beautiful.”

“I’m fairly sure that size aside, nomech would think of you as… boxy. Maybe a few snobbish nobles, yeah, but not your friends.” Megatron paused and waved towards the treats. “Please feel free to sample anything you wish. You don’t have to wait for me to pick what you’d like.”

Orion nodded and picked an unusual treat he’s been opticking before. It’s translucent, shimmering green coat of crystalline powder was so strange among the more fuel-like ones that he simply had to try. 

“Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t appear to have a lot of confidence in yourself. Why is that so?”

Orion bit into the treat and nearly moaned as the sweet-sour gel center burst and inundated his intake and glossa with an incredible taste. He had to consciously remind himself to answer to Megatron.

“Well… most of my friends had flirted with somemech else already, while I have never managed even that much. It’s not unreasonable to think that the problem is with me.”

Orion blushed and bit his glossa. It had to be the high grade that made him reveal that to Lord Megatron! He had never said it even to Ratchet and the medic was their best bet to go to with such questions. 

Megatron smiled and Orion glanced down again, busying himself with the treat. It was still too queer to see a smile on that rugged face. Know that it was aimed at him. Know – and believe that it was supporting him, honest and not belittling. He didn’t expect that. Not from Lord High Protector Megatron, especially, if he was honest with himself. Perhaps he had a bit too many preconcepcions about warbuilds in general and perhaps they were… wrong? 

“You are really young, Orion. To find others interesting that way is not supposed to come that early. I know, lots of young mechs go to clubs and flirt and try to act like they’re mature adults before their time – but that is not the case. Not before you’re nubile. Now, what you described about yourself, that is normal. You’ll have your whole functioning afterwards to fill with flirting and interfacing, if that is what you choose.”

“But I still don’t feel that way and I am supposed to be mature now, or so Ratchet said!”

“And perhaps you never will. Mechs aren’t required to flirt or behave the same way for that matter, right? Can you imagine me, for example, flirting in the court?”

Orion snickered and shook his head. He couldn’t indeed. 

“Quite aside the fact that Sentinel would be jealous, it is simply not in my nature. And so you must discover what you like or don’t like to do in the field of relationships. Flirting, though I’m told is a fun pastime, is not a requirement. In fact there’s very little in way of requirements and I think you already know those parts.”

Orion stared a bit as he tried to wrap his processor about that casual utterance. He had somehow forgotten that Lord High Protectors came with Primes – or the other way round – and that they were bonded mates for life. And he was going to be… interfacing with one half of that holy dyad while the other half was apparently... jealous. As much as Megatron tried and surprisingly managed to alleviate his personal fears, some of it did come back now in a form of a tight, tank-churning apprehension. The half-eaten, incredible treat was suddenly put down and Orion tried to concentrate on the posed almost-question instead.

“Yes, I got the file. No hurting, nothing non-consensual and undiscussed. Ratchet also made sure we all knew all the safety details too.”

“Excellent. And don’t worry about Sentinel either.” Orion glanced up shocked. Did Megatron read his processor, or was he that transparent? “The Prime is a jealous sort generally, but he understands and respects this particular tradition. We both have done this separately. In fact he’s done it a lot more times than me.”

“It is a great honour…” - Orion cautiously tried to add, but Megatron wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what snobbish, young nobles spout to Sentinel and he soaks it up for the praise he always craves. We, in the military know that if there is honour involved it is us, being honoured to teach a young, innocent mech. I’m looking forward to it with you. You are really an interesting mech, Orion Pax.”

“I… I’m looking forward to it too… really! And… thank you.”

“Good.” That scary, fanged smile started to appear normal to Orion. “I start to think that you’re far more than just a simple archivist.”

“But I’m not, not really. I am just a boring datapad-pusher.”

Orion shrugged and picked up another small cube, lifted it towards Megatron and they drank. 

Megatron waved his self-debasement off with his own cube. “I don’t mean that you lie or deceive or whatnot. But I don’t think you boring at all either. It’s not the archivist part… it is you. **Orion**.”

He stressed Orion’s name and the way it sounded warmed him somewhere deep inside. He looked up again into those red orbs that shone with inner fire. Megatron’s voice became thoughtful, deep and pondering.

“When I say it it sounds like… _destiny calling_. I don’t understand it, but it strikes a chord somewhere deep.”

Megatron was watching him very seriously now and Orion got again the mechadeer in the headlights feeling. He gulped down the energon, scarcely tasting it and his vents hitched.

“And please don’t repeat that to anymech else. I shouldn’t have said that…”

For the first time in the evening it was Megatron, who looked uncomfortable. Orion gaped a little, but nodded vehemently and from then on, the conversation stayed on safe topics over the incredible treats washed down with refined energon; like the fact that Megatron was around at the period Orion was interested in, the end of the Second Era and told the most interesting tales. True tales at that. 

Then Megatron suggested their next meeting to be in the Palace, in his apartment – and Orion’s nervousness made a return. That was to be… the main event. But he agreed, of course – and by the time he got home he was even looking for it. Lord Megatron was everything he had expected – and a lot more than he hadn’t.

Oh yes, Orion was definitely looking forward to that kiss Megatron just stopped short of when they parted ways. He was hot and bothered all night cycle, the end-process of maturity kicking in with full effect now that he had his mentor. 

A mere orn never seemed so long before.


	3. evening

“Wow. Just… WOW.”

It was rare that Prion was left without words and Orion laughed freely at his gaping friend. He regaled their little group of friends with most of what happened during the evening over their breakfast cube and they all reacted like Prion – awed, a little intimidated and all of them incredibly jealous. 

“So he didn’t even kiss you?” Wedge asked surprised. “I thought it was done… faster. I definitely hope my mentor acts a little more faster when we meet.”

“I guess he saw that Orion was still intimidated, right?” Ratchet’s sensible voice cut through the agreeing noises from the company, once more crowding around a small table in their favourite breakfast place. “It is supposed to go fast because the process speeds up when you get your mentor. It’s designed that way. But it’s not always just ‘let’s get to berth now and have fun’, you see? A good mentor acts for your benefit. If you’re nervous, they put you at ease first. If you want to go too fast, they slow you down.”

“I had hoped he would kiss, but he didn’t.” Orion sighed a little. Now, committed, he too wanted to get on with it, to experience real interface for the first time. Waiting more, even just one orn seemed too long. And once the shock of who Megatron was had passed, it was actually… kind of romantic, though he would never say that aloud. 

“It’s not like you must wait for long either. In a few joors, you’ll be in the Palace and I don’t think he will drag it out any longer.”

“I certainly hope not!”

“Let’s drink to that!”

“Prion, you want to drink to everything!” Orion complained good-naturedly but lifted his cube as well.

“Everything that’s worth a drink!” Prion was incorrigible.

“Okay, so tell us, how about your femme?” Orion had a little enough of the sudden limelight.

Prion’s smile became forced and Orion cocked a brow plate.

“She’s… busy now. Can’t visit her yet.” He squirmed, suddenly the happy mask falling and disappointment showing through the cracks. “Offplanet for a decaorn still. I must wait.”

“Ohhh… I’m sorry to hear that.”

Prion sighed and shrugged.

“Can’t be helped. But she was nice when we spoke! I just have to wait… well, a bit longer.”

Orion was suddenly glad that he didn’t.

-o-o-o-

The Palace guards and staff was well-trained and obviously notified of Orion coming. He didn’t have to say a single word and the huge guards at the gate bowed and escorted him inside. His escort changed a few times along the way as he was led on huge and elaborate corridors but Orion scarcely noticed them – his attention was firmly riveted on the incredible place and the rest of his attention focused on not making any horrible blunders as he was led deeper and deeper inside the Primal Palace.

So far he managed that objective. But as they approached a large intersection, a much bigger group came from the right servo-corridor, and Orion’s guide politely directed them to stand aside, by the corridor wall to let them past. The group was a colourful chaos of fine platings, elaborate decorations and more ornaments Orion had ever seen in his whole function and that included several museums too. In the middle of the group a tall mech strolled majestically, draped in finery and wealth, whom Orion could barely see through the din, casually acknowledging all the attention directed towards him. The group has nearly passed them unnoticed when the tall, stately mech in the middle suddenly stopped and through the swirl of his attendants and courtiers, blue optics snapped piercingly straight to Orion.

With a wave of his servo a path cleared between them and Orion, at the insistent nudging of his guide bowed deep as he came closer. He recognized the mech of course. Everyone on Cybertron knew him.

“So you are that… archivist.”

Orion could only nod, vocalizer suddenly seemed to be stuck. Sentinel Prime stood in front of him haughtily in all his glory and his lips drew to a scowl.

“Can’t see what’s so special about you to be paired with… my Lord Protector.”

“I’m… nothing special, My Lord Prime…” Orion quaked and his tank clenched nervously. That possessive was stressed just a bit too much for comfort. “Nothing at all. Just a simple, lowly archivist.”

“Well. I guess it’s truly a random draw then.” Sentinel Prime’s haughty tone softened a tiny bit at his reverent obeisance.

“Yes, Lord Prime. It… must be.”

“Well, then. Go on… little archivist. He’s waiting for you.”

“At once, M’lord Prime.”

Orion was glad to get away from that not-very-friendly attention and didn’t say another word as his guide sped up their walk through the corridors. It took him breems to get his frantic venting back under control.

“Here.”

The servant held open a huge door with a war-scene embossed on it and Orion scurried inside like finding a safe place. After the endless corridors and especially the Prime, meeting with Megatron again promised to be… safer. Safer than what he wasn’t sure – Sentinel Prime was, after all not inimical, just… condescending, but it still made Orion’s spark racing and not in any good, excited way. But he certainly felt calmer in here.

“Orion? What happened? You look distraught.”

Megatron stood up from a couch that was big enough to seat Orion’s whole peer group at once and came forward to greet him. 

“It’s… nothing.” He tried to bring his vents under control and forced a smile on his face. Then he realized that the encounter wouldn’t stay a secret, so he sighed and amended his negation. “Well. I was met by the Lord Sentinel Prime on my way.”

“Ah.” The little sigh surprised Orion. “Has he threatened you?”

“No!”

“I had hoped that he would miss you, but, well. He means no harm though, just likes to assert himself. Here, sit. And drink a cube, it’s great for nerves.”

Orion looked around at the luxurious seating arrangement, the assorted stools, chairs and armchairs designed for various frame-types… and surprised himself, and Megatron too, by choosing a seat on the same sofa he took to again. Not quite close enough for touching - but not very far either. The warbuild’s stormy field was perceivable from this close and Orion cautiously flared his, to get a better read on him. 

“Aren’t you eager, ehh?”

Megatron smirked after a surprised flash of red optics, and his field flirted back with Orion’s, lapping at him with curious, heavy waves of lust, interest and something with a whiff of… protectiveness in it too. 

“I guess I am.” Orion smiled and his nerves were definitely smoothing out. “After being teased by my friends the whole orn, it is perhaps not surprising.”

“I shall not make you wait any longer then, shall I?” Orion loved his rich, deep laugh the more he heard it.

Megatron shifted closer on the couch until he was right beside Orion and his heavy, heady field nearly encompassed him. Orion looked up into those smoldering pinpoints and exvented deeply. The heavy, silver helm leaned closer, lower while red optics captured and held wide blue ones. Their vents mixed as distance disappeared and fields flickered excited. Megatron’s voice was quieter than before but its rich timbre purring right through Orion from so close.

“The goal of any intimacy, when all is said and done, is to enjoy it.”

A large digit with a dangerous claw touched his lips gently, sliding over the thin, trembling metal and Orion parted them slightly. He might have whined a little too, because those scarred lips drew to a half smile before continuing.

“Be it the love of your life, a long term partner or just a friend with benefits – mutual enjoyment is the key.”

How could such a dangerous appendage be so… gentle and arousing, Orion briefly wondered as the single claw slid over his rapidly heating metal, exciting sensors in its wake. The room spun and the world tilted. Orion swayed.

“To deprive the other of satisfaction, to tease without relief – is a dangerous game to play, though properly done it can lead to eventual enjoyment too. But I do not wish to deny it to you, Orion, not for long.”

The digits slid lower, gently lifting his chin and around his helm and Orion leaned into the oh-so-good touches. Even the soft, deep purr of words felt right, vibrating through his frame, heating it up with both the topic and their deep sensuality.

“The first time is infinitely precious. Innocence, eagerness with no hidden thoughts and preconceptions. The first, shy kiss, the discovering touches… they are to be remembered and treasured.”

The lips closed the remaining distance and Orion felt a glossa lightly sweeping over his parted lips. It shouldn’t be so sinfully amazing, it was just the merest touch? But he moaned, wanting to feel it more and invited it deeper, driven by instinct and lust. Megatron wasted no time and his glossa slid inside, fanged mouth descending on Orion, the kiss deepening, the purr vibrating through him. He couldn’t do anything, the sensations were so strong, so overwhelming, just enjoy as Megatron plundered his mouth while gently stroked his plating… he could have gladly stayed at it for joors, it was just so good, even the tiny pricks from too sharp fangs, even the overpowering, sheer weight of Megatron’s lusty field… everything was just slagging amazing and Orion, for once didn’t care about the improper word, didn’t care about anything else but that kiss.

He gasped for cool air when the lips left and dazedly looked up. Megatron was smiling widely, his fangs glistening from oral lubricant.

“That, young Orion, was just a barest of tastes of what is to come.”

“I… uhh…” Orion knew he wasn’t coherent, but couldn’t care less. He just wanted… more of the same, or if better than this was promised, then that too. Chemicals raging in his hot frame, his mentor kissing him and holding him – it was way beyond his dreams, beyond everything he had read, the clinical accounts of technical and safety information… “It was… huhh… amazing… more, please?”

Megatron laughed softly.

“Gladly!”

Orion was lifted up easily like he was a youngling and set down to Megatron’s lap, straddling those thick thighs. It was natural to put his own servos on that broad chest and smile demurely. 

“Touching is generally encouraged from both parties. Don’t worry about not knowing where and how – that comes with experience. Anything that doesn’t hurt is okay – even slight pain can be pleasurable, though I think that is better left for later encounters.”

Large servos held Orion’s trim waist and Megatron demonstrated to him that even with needle-sharp claws, one could be gentle finding sensors to fire up and touches could be pleasurable beyond his imagination. Fire flowed in his lines where they went and sparks flew – literally and in his overwhelmed processor too. Orion tried to reciprocate, his smaller digits finding thin seams in the thick armour and stroked underlying wires – and by the way Megatron was leaning his helm back and pant slightly, he must have been successful. 

“You are… a quick study, Orion…”

Those gentle, teasing servos slid lower and held his aft and Orion felt something twitch behind his panels, something that only felt cleaning solvent so far, a part of him that had not given any reaction before. Heat blossomed behind the trembling panel when Megatron’s large servos cupped his aft and leaned closer for another kiss. Hot wetness started to collect there, so strange a feeling that Orion squirmed, rubbed his itchy, hot panel on strong thighs…

“Already so hot…?”

Orion squirmed, he just couldn’t help it. The heat behind his panel was rising so fast and the itchy, throbbing wetness was just so strange… calipers twitched deep inside too for the first time, revealing an… emptiness that begged to be filled. Panels snapped open without conscious thought and bared components to the colder outside air. Orion trembled, but not in fear, not from cold. His own venting was far too loud in his audials and the barest touch of a plate just near his equipment nearly sent him into overload. 

“Please!”

He knew the mechanics of it, of course, he read up on it, studied it and… dreamed. He knew how it should all go intellectually – but right now Orion had trouble thinking straight. His vocabulary appeared to be reduced to begging and moaning, his processor insisted that he should stop analysing and just enjoy what Megatron was doing…

“There’s eagerness and there’s hurry.” Megatron’s voice was still making his insides melt, so it was kind of hard to listen to him, but the end of the kiss and the slowing of those teasing servos helped a little. “I know that it feels so good that you want to jump headlong into ‘facing… but there’s still a size difference so we must slow down a bit.”

Orion pouted, but the next kiss melted that right off of his faceplates. He was lifted up again and instinct made him close his legs around Megatron’s waist, servos grab the shoulders, hanging onto the larger frame like a youngling – and not embarrassed by it in the very least. That move brought his hot, achingly sensitive equipment close to an equally hot panel and by Megatron’s groan, he, too felt that closeness keenly. He was carried a short distance and set down to a silky berthcloth, Megatron lowering himself to kneel over him. 

“I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you, Orion.”

Orion meant to answer, he really did. But the first touch of a claw inside his panel banished all conscious thoughts from his processor. Heat pooled and impossibly grew. Itchy wetness grew to amazing sensations wherever that claw touched him. He bucked up, trying to get closer, to get more… then, as the digit circled components and wandered over newly discovered bits, there was a point where all that sensitivity, all that heat and sensation focused… and Orion screamed his first ever release into the air when that engorged node was lightly rolled between two large but gentle digits. 

“That’s it, Orion, you’re doing well…” Megatron held him as Orion’s frame twitched and jerked like glitching and stroked him gently. “Are you all right?”

He had to reset his vocalizer to be able to answer, Orion discovered sheepishly. The heat lessened a bit and with it his raging need too – though it wasn’t gone. Just the edge taken off of it. But his frame still felt somewhat jelly-like and twitching randomly with aftershocks.

“Y-yes… more than… umm, okay.”

“Great to hear that.” There was a smile in his vocals again and Megatron leaned down again, kissing and stroking and stoking his fire again. “Never belittle good foreplay, young Orion. It can be just as pleasurable as the interface that usually follows. And in most cases, needed too. Do you feel it?”

Orion tried to collect his fleeting thoughts and concentrate. Yes, he felt the difference. The wetness that was just a hot dampness before now turned to be outright messy, lubricant oozing from his valve in rivulets. Megatron casually swiped a digit into it, making Orion yelp with the sudden sensation – and licked it off his digit, to his wide-opticked surprise. 

“When you are with a larger partner, it is a must, don’t forget that.”

It was, well, logical, Orion knew. Lubricant and stretching, just as Ratchet told them. But it was so hard to think when it felt so good!

Megatron smirked down, like he had read Orion’s processor again and his wandering, discovering digits slid up, circling his spike sheath, making him groan again as the hot, wet emptiness slowly transformed into a straining need.

“Whichever way you will lean later – spike or valve can be equally pleasurable. At least most mechs I know enjoys them equally.”

The fire in Orion’s belly concentrated and a strange tension grew behind the thin film of his spike seal. Megatron’s teasing claw circled it slowly, the lubricant from earlier spread over the thin silicone, softening it, heating it – not that it needed much heating with the raging inferno that felt contained behind. Orion strained up, instinct again driving him to get closer, more contact with that teasing digit…

“Whenever you’re ready, Orion.” The clawtip made tiny pricks into the softening metal, their flickering, electric sparks making Orion groan and moan again and again… “Just let it extend.”

It was just so hard to remember the correct protocol! Orion knew what he wanted, what he needed – but the how eluded his hazy processor. The fire grew, the tension became nearly unbearable, getting close to overwhelm the pleasurable feelings. Megatron patiently petted him, soft words encouraging and inspiring… and when his large palm cupped the slight camber of the seal Orion suddenly found it. A sharp, deep ache signalled the seal tearing, but even before he could yelp, it was immediately swamped out by his spike pressurizing the first time, into the gentle, but firm grip of Megatron. Orion’s blue optics grew wide.

“Ooohh….”

“Yes, that’s it. You’re doing well, Orion.”

It was a relief to loose the stretching tension, but the relief was short-lived as Megatron’s servo started to move over the shaft, spreading lubricant onto it – and exciting so-far dormant sensors for the very first time. If anything it was even more intense than what he felt in his node and the fire returned with full force. Orion moaned and held onto Megatron like a lifeline while he rode the waves of amazing pleasure. He couldn’t do anything else really – his processor appeared to have shut down and let him feel, experience the sensations fully. His servos grabbed strong plating and tried to pull Megatron closer, closer, not that he could of course, but he tried anyway. Megatron laughed gently, encouraged him and his free servo petted Orion’s finials – another thing that kept derailing his scattered thoughts – and in kliks Orion’s backstrut bowed up and the fire in his belly erupted with an incoherent shout and he fell into the sweetest oblivion.

He actually reset for a klik after the overload. When Orion could open his optics again, Megatron was lying on his side by him and gently stroking, petting his still twitching frame. A small smile sat on thin lips and Orion stared at him like he had never seen him before. A yearning rose inside, a feeling that wasn’t physical, that didn’t stem from the amazing overloads Megatron gave him so far, that was deeper, truer, more important than just physical pleasure. It was… it was something he definitely shouldn’t feel. “ _don’t fall madly in love with your mentor_ ” – Ratchet’s serious advice echoed in his clearing processor – “ _it’s natural to be enraptured if he’s good, but don’t mistake it for true love. It rarely ever works out that way._ ” But it was so hard to squash that feeling back, to rein it in and be… responsible. Very hard swallowing back the passionate confession when he felt Megatron’s knowing glance on him and the aftershocks of the overload still cursed through his nerve-cables like twinkling lights in the starry skies at the Midsummer celebrations.

Orion took an invent and was surprised how cold it was to his overheated internals. He gasped some more as it felt a generally good idea to cool down a bit and forget unwise ideas – but he felt no inclination to move otherwise. Luxuriating in the silky berthclothes’ gentle touch and the slow petting of the large servo he barely even noticed the mess he made and what was now slowly drying on his plating. He felt no compulsion to do anything about it – and he hoped Megatron felt the same. He just generally felt just too slagging amazing to move.

“A little mess is nothing to worry about.” Again that clarity that bordered on processor-reading and surprised Orion greatly. Were all warbuilds so… perceptive or was it just Megatron? He never associated this quality with military mechs, so it came as a complete surprise.

“Okay…” – huhh. His voice was worse than Wedge’s when he had drank the strongest high-grade they could find for a bet and Ratchet berated them nearly a decaorn for it. Apparently it was Seeker grade. Orion reset his vocalizer along with his wondering processor and tried again. “That was… simply amazing.”

“You sure looked like enjoying it.” Came the smirking answer and Orion laughed freely, unchecked, because yes, he felt slagging good and didn’t care if it showed. It was his night and he was going to be enjoying it to the fullest. Only a tiny grain of darkness spotted his good mood though…

“B-but you… you didn’t?”

“Ohh, I enjoyed it plenty, young Orion, don’t worry.” Megatron smiled at him fondly.

“But you didn’t… overload.” It felt unfair somehow for Orion.

“I will, before the night is over, but mentors must always put their partner first. I can’t be lost in pleasure and be properly attentive to your needs, you see? But to see you so marvellously lost in pleasure is its own satisfaction.”

“I… see.” He still thought it was unfair, but then, he wasn’t Lord Megatron’s true partner, the one with whom he could loose himself in… Orion cut that line of thought, because it led to a mech he didn’t want to think about right now and struggled to fall back to the sated-pleasured mood with no worries.

“Don’t worry about it, Orion.” Megatron reiterated and Orion nodded, chasing away the worries and smiling again. “That’s it. We’ll still have plenty of time to have fun in any way you wish to.”

His voice was purring again and it derailed Orion’s darker thought completely. Kissing was fast becoming his favourite act. Megatron was a very thorough kisser. He took his time to explore his mouth, his lips, his glossa, his much smaller denta… and Orion, try as he might just couldn’t maintain enough coherency to reciprocate it. He squiggled closer to the larger frame, burrowed nearly into his immense strength and heady field and held on to heated plating while they kissed. Worries melted in that swirling heat and thought became hazy, indistinct, floating on waves of pleasure.

Orion moaned deeply into the kiss as a digit once again slid down and started to dip closer to his valve. Megatron pulled one leg up and held it easily while he continued to ghost around the twitching rim of Orion’s valve. Calipers complained once again of aching emptiness and pooling heat and lubricant gushed out at the light but oh-so-maddening stimulus. Megaton slowly rolled to his back, drawing Orion’s smaller frame over him, to straddle his thighs again – only stopping with the kiss when it became clear that the differences in height were too great for that. Orion leaned over the strong chest plates, panted for cold air and rubbed his crotch on the heated bulge of Megatron’s panel. Wanted it again, so much it nearly hurt to be still empty. 

“Sometimes it hurts a bit more than the spike seal.” Megatron’s voice was ragged now too, panting for vents and suffused with emotions, while struggling still to stay in his role. “Better if I…”

A digit dipped in shallowly between the outer folds and Orion froze, despite of the amazing sensation of the intimate touch. That claw, gentle as it could be, he already felt it, but it could still cause plenty of damage if he moved carelessly. Anticipation warred with apprehension, cooling his arousal a bit.

“Ready…?”

Orion nodded and his servos tightened slightly. The clawtip pressed inward, into the thin seal, finding the small opening in the middle and it was such a queer feeling that Orion nearly yelped and made to rise up, away…

“Stay still, please...” a tight, taut voice and a strong servo stopped him and in that nanoklik the tip sank deeper and the seal split so easily, Orion for a few kliks just gaped and waited for the mentioned pain to come… 

…but it didn’t. The digit sank deeper and there was this queer sort of… tearing or splitting feeling, but no pain accompanied it. Instead another gush of lubricant greeted the invading digit and the exultant firing of the deeper sensors in his valve, the hesitant twitches of calipers moving for the first time… and Orion moaned surprised as sensation exploded deep inside him, so strong, so overwhelming, but so… amazing instead of pain.

“I can see that you are all right.” Megatron’s voice intruded into his happy bubble and Orion nodded mutely, smile so wide it nearly split his face. “it doesn’t always hurt, but better be prepared than… unnnhhh…” his words tapered away into a moan as Orion’s calipers tightened around his digit, fluttered and Megatron gave up talking and the digit sank deeper until it could and Orion ground down on it, wanting to be filled, wanting to take it deep… take them deep as the second one joined the first.

But digits, large though as they were could go only so deep and soon Megatron nudged him to rise a bit and did, trusting his mentor to make it even better than so far… and Megatron was actually sighing in relief when his panel slid back and his spike rose already pressurized. It was a formidable spike at that, Orion acknowledged; even with his extremely limited knowledge is such matters it stood proud and big in its stark, silvery glory, about as intimidating as its owner – but Orion was way past being intimidated, hot and aroused is all the best ways… and that yearning emptiness deep within wanted that spike inside, and the bigger, the better.

“It’s… mmmm… best if you… familiarize yourself with it first.” Megatron spoke truly raggedly now, as if he was holding onto his control with difficulty. “I think neither of us needs any more… unhhh… foreplay… but it’s… generally… unhhh…”

“It’s magnificient.” Orion cut through his words that started babbling and suddenly feeling daring he rubbed his lubricant-smeared equipment to the rising shaft – and smugly reaped the moan falling unchecked from the larger mech’s lips. 

“Orion…” The tone was warning.

“I’ll… take it slow…” he wasn’t a lot more coherent, but Orion appreciated the concern – Megatron’s spike was rather large and he was, after all, a virgin still.

“As if I’d… let you do… fast!”

Strong servos held onto his hips and restricted-guided him over the spike. Orion leaned forward and slowly, let himself sink over it, on it, feeling keenly as the bulbuous tip spread his valve lips wide and another gush of lubricants greeted it, guided it to slide in the glorious first inch…

“Ooooohhhh…” 

It was big. It was big and hot and Orion once again started to loose coherency in cataloguing the feelings swamping him. He was spread impossibly wide and the spike slid in slowly, stretching the surprised calipers, the inner folds smoothing out to reveal sensors imbedded into the mesh walls and feeling friction for the first time, translating it into pure pleasure.

“OOOOHHH…!”

And it went on and on endlessly, the spike slowly filling him till the very end, till there was no space left and lubricant gushed out again, oozed all around the shaft splitting him and oh, Primus it reached something in the deepest recess, touched it, nudged it and Orion shouted out loud, garbled and incoherent as something truly outworldly exploded inside him…

Megatron wasn’t a lot more sober either by his sounds, but he still maintained enough control not to thrust the last inches in, just let Orion sank low enough so his spike gently nudged the ceiling node instead of ramming into it. But the deep moan that tore from his vocalizer was a perfect counterpoint for Orion’s own loud yell. With a deep sigh and a gasp for air he lifted Orion, almost as slowly as he came down and even managed a small smirk at the pout Orion produced at the sudden emptiness. Orion tried to grind himself down, wanting the spike back inside, but Megatron was still holding him and a lot more stronger than him. 

“Please…!”

He didn’t have to wait long. In fact it was mere nanokliks before Megatron let him move again, down and up, letting the amazing firmness fill him again, let the sensations lap him in waves of pleasure, helping him to find the rhythm that was just right, not too fast, not too slow and just the right depth and angle… none of them of course thought of it in such precise terms, more like instincts and feelings; moans and grunts substituting for words – but it worked and soon Orion was riding Megatron’s spike like he did it all his life and increasingly loud as he lost the last vestiges of his shyness in the fires of hot pleasure and sweet delight.

He lost it first too, grinding down on Megatron, shouting out his overload and slumping forward tiredly – but Megatron wasn’t far behind and held him up while he thrust in once, twice more and flooded Orion’s valve with liquid fire and groaned out his designation reverently. Orion moaned deeply as his stretched, overly sensitive valve was filled with transfluid, spilling out by Megatron’s spike and actually sizzled as it dripped onto hot plating. He felt strutless and weak and sated; and if not for the still strong grip he would have flopped down onto Megatron to have a nap right there and then, not caring about the spike still nestled in him… but he was so happy and blissful as never before in his life.

“Have a… nap, Orion if you want to.” 

Megatron, too was gasping for fresh air, just like Orion and he laughed, breathlessly, happy and Megatron smiled in answer and then he was laughing too and let him down, helped him first off his spent spike, then lie down beside him, Orion throwing a lazy arm over such plating as he could reach, strong arms holding him and tightening imperceptibly…

“Sleep now, Orion.”

He didn’t see the smile melting away slowly and didn’t hear the last, tiny sigh - Orion fell into much needed recharge.

-o-o-o-

Sentinel Prime entered his consort’s private rooms as early as it wasn’t unseemly to do so, a lot faster than it was proper and with nomech at his side. He just… had to see it, had to be sure, had to… but he had to stop before he could enter the berthroom Megatron generally used in the Palace, because he was sitting lazily on a sofa, out in the main room, holding a datapad and sipping from a cube. Sentinel drew up short. Megatron looked up, his usual, half-smile greeting him.

“Where’s… he?”

Megatron shrugged casually and waved behind him. He ignored the dark tone and the frown as well.

“Left him sleeping in the spare berthroom. Such a small thing, he looked dead tired.”

Sentinel lifted a brow plate, but the scowl left his lips and he approached the sitting area slower – and in a much better mood.

“You’re up early.”

“I have to leave early too. The offensive at Farpoint requires my presence.”

He waved the datapad towards Sentinel and he remembered the memo too. Oh well. Sentinel leaned over the sofa and nuzzled the silvery helm. Megatron reached up, but sighed and looked contrite.

“I really must leave soon.”

“Not even a kiss?”

Sentinel’s mood changed to playful and joshing and Megatron smiled too, reached up and pulled down his helm for a kiss. Lips and glossas played for a few kliks, fighting their usual, playful battle before Megatron sighed again and looked apologetic.

“Just the one, though.”

Sentinel pouted playfully but let him go and turned to leave, in a much better mood.

Megatron sighed again after he left. He hoped that distance would help forgetting the young mech sleeping peacefully in his berth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, @ladydragon76 for the title! I was stuck with lottery, but this is more fitting. It expresses the random neutralness of the draw better than lottery which has a main prize.


End file.
